Max wondered if she didn't have the male "I like twins" gene sequence and thought briefly about how absurd that gene would be if it existed. Why would that one survive thousands of years of strict Darwinian elimination and then be spliced into her unique gene structure?
Well, she thought wryly as she abandoned sleep and dressed herself, maybe the guys at Manticore just needed one more gene to replace all of her junk DNA. In this post-Pulse world, anything was possible. Max went to the Needle to wait out the early morning hours. After she was certain most people had left for work, she walked back to Terminal City and checked in with Joshua.
"Little Fella," he greeted her with a hug, careful not to get his paintbrush in her hair.
"Whatcha painting, Big Fella?" she asked as she examined a half-covered tableau behind him.
"Joshua number ninety-seven," he said with pride. "Normals." Max looked at him in surprise, so he explained eagerly. "Unexciting. Fragile. Ugly." He actually winked at that one. "Beautiful. They are all these things. Complex. Challenging to put into color."
"They sure are, Big Fella," she agreed, and he grinned, pleased with himself. "Do you mind if I stick around here?" she asked then, "Watch you paint?"
If Joshua could have blushed under his dark skin, he would have. Painting was very personal to him, and he felt momentarily self-conscious. "Sure, Little Fella," he said, all embarrassment gone. Max, after all, was like a part of himself. The upstairs part.
Max's big smile was honest and loose. Things were always simpler with Joshua. As she watched him paint she felt able to think and breathe again. She would blow off Crash tonight watching Joshua paint Normals and take the late sentry watches. That should keep her out of trouble. Logan would miss her, no doubt, but it was the only way she could think of to prevent herself from making new regrets.